


Mama Told Me Not to Come

by 2FarGone



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, References to Drugs, Unintentional baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2FarGone/pseuds/2FarGone
Summary: Steve's and Danny's latest investigation has unexpected consequences for the leader of the Governor's Special Task Force. Herbs may be involved.





	1. Smoked

**Author's Note:**

> The title and inspiration for this story is from a song written by Randy Newman and popularized by the group Three Dog Night in the 1970's. Its lyrics seemed appropriate. Please note that any research for this story was done purely in the interest of accurate detail. I hope its result makes you as happy as it did the researcher.

He surveyed the scene. On nearly every horizontal or semi-horizontal surface of the large and expensively furnished room lay bodies. Even the mantle hadn’t been spared. A half-naked female lay sprawled on the slate surface like a disjointed doll. The thick, sweet, haze that hung in the air was punctured by the electro-pop/ska fusion pulsing from hidden speakers. Loud and annoying, it was sacrilege to the musical sensibilities of one Jersey detective.

Sighing in exasperation he advanced further into the syrupy atmosphere.

This was like being transported back to the era of which his parents fondly reminisced, (now that their children were grown). A time when long hair, drugs, sex, and rock'n roll were merely milestones on the pathway to nirvana. Danny half expected to see Hendrix, Marley or, at the very least, Willie Nelson wander through the smoke-filled room.

Wading through the assemblage of the unconscious and the semi-conscious, he stopped and looked down at a mound of silk pillows topped with a small body. Bending to get a better look, he pulled back long, dark, hair to reveal a face to compare to the image on the phone held in his other hand. __Nope. Not her. Keep looking.__

Steve had gone in the back way to secure and search the rooms at the rear of the house. Though the SEAL was, without doubt, armed well enough to invade a small foreign country the weaponry wouldn't be needed. From what the detective had observed, any inhabitants of this vapor-filled dwelling were way too mellow to put up any resistance.

To anyone in law enforcement this wasn't an unfamiliar scenario. With mommy and daddy away, junior and friends had partied their asses off before passing-out from excess. Judging by the debris, the entitled little darlings had consumed enough alcohol, cannabis, and whatever else they’d gotten their paws on to send them to lala-land or perhaps an emergency room.

The marijuana grown nowadays is far stronger than the stuff he used to smoke with his equally rebellious friends back in his wild youth, (though if one smoked enough of it, it got the job done). He vividly remembered the time one of his dad's fellow firemen had spotted the small gang of stoners toking up under a tree in a local park and had ratted them out. Within minutes his father had shown up and hauled his baked ass home where sentence was to be handed out. Only his mother's intervention had saved him from being grounded for life rather than the mere two months with added torture of babysitting his little sisters. Ah, the good old days.

He had the fleeting thought that he should give Kamekona a call. When these idiots finally begin to stir, they’re gonna have industrial strength munchies. No doubt the extra-large entrepreneur could sell out his entire stock of overpriced shrimp dishes in minutes.

Hearing harsh coughing from behind him, he turned to see Steve burst out of one of the back bedrooms; a thick cloud of smoke rolling out the doorway with him.

"No . . . no luck." hacked out his friend trying to catch his breath between spasms as his lungs tried to rid themselves of the irritant. "Lotsa stoned kids but not . . . not . . ." his words were interrupted by a particularly painful sounding hack. ". . . the right one." he finally gasped.

Danny frowned when he realized that, though this was a somewhat dramatic entrance, it wasn't quite the same as the SEAL's usual sudden appearances. The man had just sort of staggered out to the center of the living room.

Steve stood before him wheezing and blinking for nearly a minute before his partner’s initial alarm morphed into barely controlled hilarity. The detective had suddenly realized what had happened while Steve was searching the other room. The glazed, red-rimmed, eyes that blinked owlishly back at him were proof. SuperSEAL has squired a contact high.

Chuckling, Danny walked to the front door to throw it wide then went around the room’s perimeter to open several windows. Steve was apparently stoned enough for both of them. It’s a bad idea to continue to expose himself to the herbal haze as well.

"You okay there, babe?" he asked trying to control the bubble of that threatened to rise to the surface to burst into uncontrollable laughter.

The Five-0 leader's alarmed realization right before the thought floated off into the atmosphere was, __Shit! I am so fucked-up__ _!_

Trying mightily to concentrate enough to form a coherent sentence Steve blearily peered back at the suddenly startlingly blue eyes that awaited an answer. "Umm, yeah . . . good, I mean good . . . no not uhh . . . 'm fine."

 _ _Definitely__ _ _amusing__ _,_ thought the detective. "You see any evidence to indicate she was ever here?" he asked, (mostly just to be an asshole).

He waited patiently for Steve to answer the relatively simple question. He’d changed his mind as to what level of mirth had been achieved by his friend’s accidental trip to Lotus Land _._ _ _This is freakin' earth-shattering, piss-your-pants hilarious!__ _ _A__ _ _gift from the deities of illegal herbs!__ _ _B__ _ _lackmail material for life!__

"There were umm . . . lots of . . . umm people passed-out in that room but . . . umm none were umm . . ." __What’__ _ _s__ _ _her name?__ __I knew it a second ago!__ thought Steve, strangely without panic over the suddenly missing information. "Umm, you know . . . that girl." Managing to regain a bit more focus he frowned at the chaos surrounding them and asked, "I take it you didn't find any sign of Denning's . . . um . . . brother's kid?"

"No. His __niece__ ," said the blonde stressing the word his partner couldn't retrieve from his befuddled memory bank, "is definitely not among those passed out on the floor . . . or couch or coffee table or, you know, . . . whatever." said Danny with a wave toward the custom eighty-gallon saltwater fish tank in a corner of the room. Flopped over its top was a blonde kid, in only underpants, who stared dazedly, (and upside-down), at the brightly colored fish that floated through his vision.

"You sure you're okay?" asked the detective once again. Miraculously managing to make an observation without laughing, he added, “You look a little, um . . . high."

Steve enthusiastically replied, “As a fuckin’ kite!”

“Well, that was a surprisingly honest answer.” chuckled Danny.

With his goofiest grin ever, Steve nodded a bit too vigorously and lost his balance and had to make a grab for Danny's shoulder. Too late Five-0’s leader had come to the conclusion. __Dammit! I shoulda been wearing a mask 'cause I'm pretty sure I just inhaled a shit-ton of pakalolo!__ The thought drifted briefly through his mind before it drifted out again.

"So, I guess that tip we got wasn't a good one. You wanna call Denning or you want me to do it?" asked the blonde knowing it definitely wouldn't be wise for Steve to hold any conversations with the Governor of the State of Hawaii or anyone other than maybe Toast.

Steve seemed to be actually contemplating the question before Danny made the decision and proclaimed, "Maybe talking to the Governor and parading around in front of HPD in your current state of um . . . bliss . . . isn't such a good idea right now, Rambo. I think a better idea would be to get you home."

His attention span apparently having dispersed into the atmosphere, Steve just looked blankly back at him for a long moment before suddenly declaring, "Man, that's the bomb!"

"What?" asked Danny in confusion. He knew that Steve wouldn't consider going home before a scene is secured a good thing. _What could possibly have elicited that response?_

Danny cast his eyes about the room looking for 'the bomb'. They were standing in the midst of a bunch of passed-out kids who were going to be in deep shit with their parents as soon as they were cognizant enough to remember their names. He could spot nothing that could elicit such an exclamation from his partner – baked or not.

"Did you ever notice that awesome cowbell in that song? It's genius!" observed Steve of the loud but almost forgotten soundtrack of what was becoming an episode of The Twilight Zone as far as Danny was concerned.

"The bomb? Seriously? What is this? Time-machine Tuesday?" snorted the blonde.

“No, it’s . . . um . . .” said Steve trying really hard to remember what day of the week it is.

"Come on Rambo. We have to get you back to the commune before one of the flower children makes off with your bong.”

"Uhh. What?" asked Steve, his brow knit in confusion. "I don't have a bong! Haven't had one since high school!”

"If you say so, Snoop Dog." chuckled Danny, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "Just don't wander away 'kay. I'm gonna call CPS. There are several kids here who don't look anywhere near old enough to be partying like it's 1999. If I ever catch Grace doing anything like this she's not gonna be allowed out until it's time for her to go to the social security office to sign-up for Medicare."

After a very long beat, Steve suddenly 'got' what his partner was saying and dissolved in an over-reactive giggle. "You think Gracie's gonna wait that long before she starts testing her boundaries? That's soo funny!" He actually doubled over with laughter before another round of hacking brought it to a stop.

"Yeah, whatever." frowned Danny. He really didn't need to be reminded how quickly his daughter was growing up. She hadn't even been allowed to wear make-up yet except for the tinted lip gloss her mother had permitted. He wasn't sure how he would survive her actually going out on a date let alone experimenting with illicit substances.

He took his cell out of his pocket and punched speed-dial for Chin who, with Kono, was following-up a lead on a separate case. He filled them in on the situation without mentioning the current state of the leader of the Governor's Special Task Force. Satisfied they’d be arriving in the next few minutes to take over he next contacted Duke Lukela. He gave him the rundown of the ‘crime’ scene and asked him to send EMT's along with the HPD uniforms. Duke volunteered to contact CPS for the under-aged kid roundup. Without saying why, Danny told the veteran sergeant that he and Steve were needed elsewhere and that Chin and Kono could take care of any questions.

**. . . . . . .**

Five-0's Hawaiian contingent had arrived to take over the scene as at least twenty kids had roused enough to wander dazedly about the house and yard. The most pressing need was to sort-out who needed to be transported for medical care, who needed to be booked for providing illegal substances to the under-aged, and who merely needed have their parents notified. All-in-all the group was pleasantly docile; a few actually being too stoned to move.

"See you guys at HQ. in another couple hours or so." said Danny as he tried to subtly guide Steve in the direction of the Camaro parked at the curb. "Steve's not . . . um not feeling all that well so I'm gonna go drop him off at his place."

Observed Chin with his cat-that-ate-the-canary smile as he watched Steve more or less wander in the direction of the car. "I think he's feeling just fine Danny."

"Fuckin' A" muttered Steve as he made his way toward his goal of the silver car. He'd never fully appreciated its beauty before. __It's sooo shiny!__

Danny rolled his eyes and took his mumbling partner by the arm to propel him a bit faster toward the vehicle. He had to get him out of here before anyone other than Chin realized the guy was totally wasted.

"Bye, Boss!" yelled Kono after them, "I hope you feel better!" She’d immediately recognized what had happened. Despite most of the windows in the huge house having been opened, the place still smelled like her cousin Haku’s man cave, (a converted tool shed in his parent’s back yard).

 _ _Poor Steve, he's gonna be embarrassed when the pakalolo wears off.__ _The Hawaiian cop_ smiled to herself. She'd never seen the man so relaxed. Maybe they should make it a regular thing.

**. . . . . . .**

"Hey Danny!" exclaimed Steve as he looked out the passenger window, seemingly fascinated by the scenery that flashed by.

"Yeah?" asked the driver who hadn't stopped smiling since they'd left the 'den of iniquity'.

"Um . . ."

"Steve?"

"Umm . . ."

"Look! Either you spit out the rest of the sentence or I'm just gonna handcuff you to the steering while I stop for a beer and wait for you to make your way out of the stratosphere and back to earth."

"Why're you mad at me?" asked Steve in that annoyingly hurt sounding way of his. Berating him at this moment would be like beating a puppy. An orphaned one. With big sad eyes. And a sore paw.

"I'm not mad dammit! Just ask the question already!" exclaimed Danny in exasperation. He took it back. Steve wasn’t as much amusing as he was annoying when stoned.

"What question?" asked Steve, face scrunched into a frown. __What the hell is Danny talking about?__

"Okay, now you're just messin' with me" growled the detective.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Just shut-up, sit there, look pretty, and enjoy the ride." said the blonde with a roll of his eyes as he steered the Camaro toward Pi'i'koi Street.

"I'm pretty?"

"Pretty baked maybe." snorted the detective.

"I think Cath sometimes calls me pretty but I guess you could call me handsome if you want . . . Oh!” Steve exclaimed as if suddenly realizing something, “No offense Danny. You’re a uh . . . good lookin’ guy and all but I don't like you in that way."

At this point, Danny truly wasn't sure if Steve was pulling his leg or not. This conversation was getting out of hand.

"Look, just shut-up okay? We're almost to your house." he snapped.

"Daniel?"

"Yes, Steven?" winced the blonde, not sure what the next squirrely declaration was going to be.

"Can we stop and get something to eat? I don't know why but I have a really bad craving for a cheeseburger . . . and maybe pizza . . . and maybe . . ."

Finding the first burger joint he could, Danny whipped the car into the drive-thru and they proceeded to order several things Steve would normally never think of eating.

Even if he had to pay for it himself, Danny was more than willing to give his friend the opportunity to stuff himself with the unhealthy eats. It would be sweet, passive-aggressive, revenge for the lectures his health-nut partner had given him over the years about changing his diet to one that didn't include such things as the sacred malasadas. In fact, he was eagerly looking forward to obtaining photographic evidence that Steve was actually human and didn't exist on a diet of shell casings and gogi berry/wheat grass smoothies.

As they drove away from the burger joint Steve ripped into one of the greasy paper sacks and retrieved a gooey sandwich. Taking a huge bite he groaned in appreciation of the paper-wrapped invitation to a coronary event.

"Hey whoa!" exclaimed Danny. "What the hell are you doing?! You didn't even open the bag at the top. You just tore through the side of it like a starving raccoon! Don't eat that stuff in my car! You're gonna drip cheese on my upholstery then I'm gonna have to shoot you, you animal!"

Steve's only response was a huge, cheddar smeared grin.

By the time they arrived at Casa McGarrett, his partner had devoured a triple cheeseburger and most of an extra-large side of fries. Danny was impressed.

"Hey D. There's some chocolate in the freezer. It would go really good with the milkshakes!" enthusiastically announced Steve as he struggled to keep hold of several bags while opening the door of the Camaro.

 _Jeeze, this is almost scary_ , thought Danny as he watched his partner, bounty clutched tightly in his arms, practically jog toward his front door.

**. . . . . . .**

They were finally settled in to watch a movie.

This had been a good call. Chin and Kono had assure him that they would handle the rest of the day’s challenges without any assistance. He and Steve, (especially Steve), weren’t needed unless something big came up. Five-0’s fearless leader was definitely useless to law enforcement at the moment. So Detective Williams was going to enjoy the time off - even if it meant spending it with his still baked, munchie obsessed, partner.

The food that had made it all the way home had been laid-out on the coffee table before them. Steve, (apparently even more OCD when stoned), eschewing the alphabet, had arranged it by proposed order of consumption. The items included in this intimidating feast were: chili-cheese dogs, another triple cheeseburger, a mountain of fries, pastrami sandwiches, milk-shakes, pizza, (Steve had insisted they get one delivered but mellowly agreed to forego any pineapple topping), chocolates, pop-corn and, strangely, a quart of peach yogurt.

Let the good times roll.

At his final check-in with the wonder twins he was told that their 'big case' had already sorted itself out. The Governor's missing niece had shown-up at her parent's door with a ring on her finger and a scruffy new husband in tow.

"Mazel tov." responded Danny when informed of Isabel Hall's, (nee Denning's), new marital status. He wondered how long it would be before her parents tried to get it annulled.

Ending the call, he reached for the remote. Normally he’d have to wrestle his control-freak partner for it but the man was currently distracted by the obsessively meticulous unwrapping of an ice cream sandwich.

"So, what's it gonna be Steven?" he asked as he concentrated on pushing the correct sequence of buttons to select the streaming service McGarrett subscribed to. "Considering your current state, how about 'Dazed and Confused'?" Receiving no reply, he went on to read the Nextflix menu on the big screen, "Maybe 'Horrible Bosses'? It's something we can both relate to." When no answer was forthcoming he grumbled, "Okay, okay. Since you're paying for it we'll watch 'American Sniper'. It's on pay-per-view."

He finished queuing up the movie then settled back and turned toward his companion.

The tall man was sprawled against the back of the sofa, one foot resting on the edge of the coffee table, the other on the floor, mouth open. and sound asleep. There was cheese and chocolate smeared on his face, mustard and chili stains on his T-shirt, and a melting Klondike bar still clutched in his hand.

"Lightweight." snorted the blonde dismissively as he reached for his cell phone to snap another picture.


	2. The Morning After the Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consequences of over-indulgence can either dismay or amuse. Five-0's fearless leader and his mostly fearless partner deal with the aftermath of an accidental herbal adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for the update. Have heavily edited the original story and it's now only three instead of four chapters.
> 
> Special apology to Canadians. To quote the late Robin Williams, "You are like a really nice apartment over a meth lab.

_It's what everyone did when I was a kid. It goes like this: you get high, everything gets funnier than shit, you get the munchies, you eat everything you can get your teeth on, and then, if you have a girlfriend who's feelin' the ganja, you might get lucky."_

Those words, in Danny's voice, were in his head as he slowly resurfaced. _Why did Danny feel the need to tell him this? Had he really said it or was it an audio hallucination? Is there such a thing?_

Hallucination or not, it felt like someone had removed his brain, put it in a Cuisinart, then poured it back into his skull. Random memories seemed to float over his head for long moments before dropping into place . . . piece by bewildering piece.

 _ _Oh, man__ , he thought without saying it aloud. Actually, he wasn't capable of saying it aloud. At best, the exclamation would have come out as ‘Ohmm mnnn’ - and it wouldn't have been a Tibetan chant. As he lay a while longer trying to figure out who super-glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth, the sound of chirping birds plinked into this newly found wakefulness. _How did the_ _ _noisy little bastards__ _ _get into__ _ _the__ _ _bedroom?__

The task of opening his eyes, (at least one anyway), was proving more difficult than one would think. Some sneaky sonofabitch had crept in during the night to tape them shut.

Finally, his lids grated open and light, bright as burning magnesium, blasted into his retinas. He slammed his lids shut again. __Who the hell opened the drapes?__

After a loud groan and a long minute waiting for his head to explode, he steeled himself and cautiously raised gummy lids. Though everything was a bit blurry, he was startled to realize that he isn’t in his bedroom.

He’s on the lanai, sprawled on a lounge chair, one hand dangling over its edge. This unseen hand seemed to be holding something . . . something sort of squishy. Gingerly, he brought it up to his face. He was clutching the soggy remnant of a half-eaten pastrami sandwich. __What the hell? I don't even like pastrami!__

He dropped the food like it had bitten him and jackknifed to a sitting position. Squinting at his watch, he could see that it displayed an accusatory seven minutes past eight.

"Shit!" Now __that__ was clearly understandable.

Flailing to a standing position he didn’t notice the giant plastic bowl, its interior coated with salty orange grease, that he’d bumped off the chaise lounge. It bounced along the deck before it rolled away to join the food wrappers and stray cheese curls that had preceded it.

Surely someone from HQ. would be looking for him by now

Patting his many pockets and not finding his cell, he staggered toward the open doorway to the kitchen. The missing device lay on the counter, half submerged in what had once been individual fudgescicles now conjoined into a gooey puddle on which floated little wooden sticks. Just last month Chin had talked the state’s bean counters into okaying the cost of new waterproof cellphones. He hoped they were ice-cream proof as well.

He gingerly picked up the device between thumb and forefinger and used his already stained shirt to wipe it off. Peering at the screen he could see no missed calls. He rubbed his eyes then checked again. _Nope_. No one was looking for him. _Strange_. By this late hour at least one, if not all three, of his team members should have tried to contact him.

 _“I've gotta get to work!”_ _he mumbled as_ he rushed out the kitchen doorway and up the stairs. His entire digestive system seemed to be protesting whatever he'd subjected it to last night. Head pounding and stomach queasy, he had no time to dawdle.

He could already tell this was gonna be a bad day.

**. . . . . . .**

Danny woke to stretch like a cat as the creaks of the leather couch accompanied the creak of stiffened joints. He’d just heard Steve thunder up the stairs. For whatever reason, the SEAL hadn't seemed to notice his friend crashed-out on the sofa. The friend wasn't surprised.

After yesterday's adventure and last night's junk food feeding frenzy maybe SuperSEAL wasn't yet completely back online. It had been a memorable, (at least for Danny), evening. There should be an engraved brass plaque to commemorate the occasion affixed to the top of the debris covered coffee table from which he plucked his cell.

He yawned as he checked the hour displayed on the screen. _Wow!_ thought the blonde. _I_ _ _t's after eight and Steve hasn't run a marathon or swum to Molokai and back.__ He chuckled softly as he lay staring at the ceiling, lazily contemplating the previous evening.

A stoned Steve is vastly entertaining. He especially liked the random declarations of awe to which the man seemed to be prone when baked out of his gourd: _"Wow,_ _Danno_ _! D’_ _yah_ _ever notice how the carbonation_ _bubbles_ _in beer rise so slowly?"_ _e_ _xclaimed_ _the SEAL as he held his bottle of lager up to the light and squinted at it with glazed eyes, "It's like the_ _y’re_ _coming up from a bounce dive. It's like it's sooo slow but it's really not. It's so beautiful, man."_

And then from another nowhere: _"D_ _’_ _yah_ _ever wonder how they make those designs in those cookies? You know, the ones_ _Gracie likes_ _with Santa Claus_ _es_ _or_ _Christmas trees._ _Or the ones with_ _ghosts or pumpkins . . ._ _not for Christmas though; only_ _if it's Halloween. They're so awesome!._ _You just slice ‘em off the roll and throw ‘em in the oven and voila! Ten minutes later you got picture cookies!_ _It’s like fuckin’ magic_ _!"_

 _He’d actually captured the ‘magic cookie monologue’ on_ _video courtesy of his fancy new cell phone_ _._ __Yesss, there is a God._ _

He lay grinning like the Cheshire cat when he heard a yelp and a loud thump come from upstairs. Taking time for a giant yawn and another languorous stretch before rising to investigate, he smiled as he rose to pad barefoot in the direction of the stairs.

He didn’t lose the smile as he ascended to the second floor. He could already tell this was gonna be a really good day.

**. . . . . . .**

__Crap!__ He'd never been this late for work! At least not without calling in to tell them he was going to be delayed. Rushing to shed his clothes he needed to get into the shower and scrub off some of his discomposure along with the blotches and smears of who-knows-what decorating his body. He tried to step out of his cargoes but caught his foot in a leg of the pants and lost his balance. He yelped when he crashed into the heavy chest of drawers and a corner of it dug into his bicep. He hit it hard enough to make it thump loudly against the wall behind it.

 _I can do this!_ He though as he hopped about on one leg, swearing like the sailor he is and struggling to disentangle himself from his pants.

To the man observing this one-legged dance from the bedroom doorway, it was most entertaining - hilarious in fact. Especially when accompanied by an angry swarm of expletives. __Who knew Steve could be so creative?__ thought Danny with admiration.

The SEAL, engaged in furious battle with his trousers, froze when a familiar voice called out behind him, "What the hell is all that noise?"

__Oh joy._ _

Managing to remain upright, Steve turned to find Danny standing hands on hips.

"It sounds like the Jets versus a herd of friggin' buffalo up here! What the hell are you doing?" demanded the compact detective.

"I overslept and apparently we're __both__ late for work!" croaked Five-0’s leader who’d belatedly realized it might've helped to remove his boots before he tried to remove his pants.

A huge grin had blossomed on Danny's face as he stood there wordlessly; his smug silence furthering his partner's ire.

In rapid succession Steve asked: "Why're you so late picking me up!? Where're your shoes? Why aren't you dressed for work? What's with all the food wrappers on the lanai?" Then, losing steam, he trailed off with an accusatory, "Is that my T-shirt?"

He couldn't stop himself from unleashing a torrent of questions, (Danny-like without waiting for answers), though he could take pride in the fact he managed not to punctuate every sentence with hand gestures. (He still hated himself though).

With barely contained laughter and a placating gesture, Danny waited for his friend to settle before responding. As though talking to a three-year-old, he said, "Relax, Rambo. You _do_ remember what day of the week this is . . . right?"

Pants still tangled around one ankle, the SEAL stood looking blankly back at him.

 _ _This is just too easy__ _._ Taking pity on his friend, Danny elaborated, "Unless the Governor himself shows up at the door to tell us Hawaii's been invaded by rabid Canadians, we are not required to be at work."

__Rabid Canadians?_ _

When Steve tilted his head and wrinkled his brow like a puzzled canine; Danny huffed with an exasperated roll of his eyes, "It's Sunday, dumbass!"

"I _know_ it's Sunday!" replied Steve indignantly. Going for dismissive confidence he leaned nonchalantly on the piece of furniture he'd assaulted only moments earlier.

"And do you remember how you came to be in this monumentally amusing state?" asked the blonde as he gestured toward Steve's semi-pantslessness.

Abandoning the pseudo-peremptory attitude, the tall man's brow furrowed as he did his best to sort the chaotic scraps of memory in his head. It was obvious when he conceded defeat. His expression morphed into that which could only be described as ‘morning-after-the-night-before’ bewilderment.

 _ _Like shooting fish in a barrel,__ _thought Danny._ _His partner, a_ heretofore so very dignified and arrogant fish, is toast. _The blonde man’s_ grin stretched across his face until it hurt.

**. . . . . . .**

Danny poured himself another cup of coffee and settled back with the morning newspaper. Steve, apparently not yet out of the Dark Ages, still subscribed to a print edition of the __Honolulu Times.__ _He’d_ just turned to the comics section when the man in question clumped into the kitchen. If not yet looking completely together, he at least appeared less befuddled. He plopped into a chair on the other side of the at the table.

"Feeling better?" asked Danny with the smugness of one who held all the cards, (or like a cat who’d eaten a stoned and unfortunate canary).

With an expression that said he expected to be extremely unhappy with the answer , Steve asked, "Okay, so tell me the rest of the story. I know we went to that location in Lanikai to look for the Governor's niece but it gets kind of hazy after that."

"I’m not surprised.” said Danny as he folded the newspaper and set it aside. This would require his full attention. “Let's just say that you partook in a celebration of what is probably Hawaii's most famed agricultural product . . . or at least one of them anyway . . . and we're not talkin' pineapples here."

Wearing the combo annoyed/confused/apprehensive expression that Danny hadn't yet named, Steve gestured impatiently for further elaboration.

Which Danny did – gleefully. "You, my oh-so-very-straight-laced and awesomely uptight friend, managed to inhale a shit ton of some primo wacky weed when you spent a bit too much time in a walk-in bong that Cheech and Chong would envy."

"Oh . . . yeah." said Steve as memory of a search through a smoky bedroom drifted back to him. "That musta been some good shit." he muttered.

"You bet." agreed his partner, "Those rich kids can afford the best."

With a cringe, Steve asked, "Was I really baked?"

"Like a meatloaf." beamed Danny.

The SEAL slowly surveyed his untidy kitchen as the full memory of his walk on the wild side finally slid into place and a look of self-loathing crept into his expression. "This place is a mess." he pronounced; long nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Yeah." grinned Danny, "You haven't even seen the living room yet. By the way, do you know how to get barbecue sauce out of upholstery? It looks like someone murdered a cow in your living room."

Steve's expression was one of absolute horror as Danny went on. "I haven't cleaned up the 'crime scene' yet. Thought you'd like to get a look at it first."

"Did anything else happen that I should know about?" asked the SEAL, (rather bravely in Danny's opinion.)

Steve prayed that the damage had been limited to textiles only. If the morning-after cotton mouth, headache, stomach ache and overall crappy feeling was any indication; his interlude of excess had indeed been epic.

"No. You were saved from yourself thanks to yours truly." said Danny pointing his thumb to his own chest. "As soon as I realized you were higher than the International Space Station I made sure to get you home."

Steve closed his eyes and sighed in relief.

Seeing the reaction, Danny actually felt a twinge of conscience. Maybe he'd give the guy a break . . . for now anyway. "That's what partners are for, babe - dragging your ass out of trouble before you do something that will make the five-o'clock news."

"Thanks, man." said Steve sincerely.

Danny graciously stayed to help with the clean-up. Steve had just about decided the area rug under the coffee table may be a goner and was sweeping the last of the cheese curls from under the sofa when his loyal friend left for his own home.

As the SEAL fired up his laptop to Google for barbecue sauce stain removers, nagging thoughts continued to surface. Eventually, all the SEAL could think is, __Danny will__ _ _never__ _ _let go of this. I'll probably just have to kill him and hide the body.__

**. . . . . . .**

Monday morning couldn't come soon enough. On second thought, perhaps it came too soon.

 _ _D__ _ _o the others__ _ _know__ _ _I was__ _ _stoned at the scene?__ wondered Five-0's leader before he concluded, __How could they not?__

"Hey Boss." greeted Kono as she strode past his office.

Steve responded with a half salute and small smile of greeting. __Did she have a smirk on her face?__

Next it was Chin who came strolling by; a folder tucked under one arm and a cup of coffee in his hand. "Hey Steve, howzit?" asked the Hawaiian detective – his usual morning greeting.

Once again Five-0’s leader gave a brief smile and haphazard salute. As usual, Chin Ho Kelly's face registered none of his thoughts. _Who could even tell if the man was smirking?_

Then it was Danny's turn.

The blonde detective strode in with his usual swagger and a most definite smirk on his face. "Well, you look a lot more chipper than yesterday." he began as he leaned into his partner's office doorway. "You up to a couple of malasadas?" he asked as he held up and rattled the white bakery bag he'd brought in with him. "I know you don't usually eat them but maybe a couple morning tokes will get you in the mood?" Putting thumb and index finger together, the detective mimed taking a puff on a joint.

The murderous scowl he got in response wasn’t entirely unexpected but, _Maybe poking the bear_ _i_ _sn't really a good idea right no_ _w,_ thought the detective as he scooted toward his own office.

**. . . . . . .**

By eight AM. they'd caught a case. Danny griped that he hadn’t even had time to enjoy his malasadas. Steve remained silent; steering them toward the location their informant had told them about. There was supposedly a cache of automatic rifles along with a few dozen grenades stashed in the small house in a working class suburb of Honolulu.

Having arrived in good time the team fanned out to conduct their search of the small wooden bungalow in the neighborhood built not long after WWII. They thought they had enough time to find the stash before its owner returned home. The tipster had told them the man was going to be on the other side of the island for the day.

Unfortunately, their suspect had shown up while they were in the middle of their search for his merchandise. The straggly local had literally bumped into Chin as he rounded the corner of his house at a fast pace.

With a yell of surprise when he was knocked off his feet by the impact, Chin quickly recovered to shout "Halt! Five-0!" to the surprised and now fleeing man.

His shout brought the rest of the team out of the house and, as the suspect fled, all four of them gave chase.

The guy was fast and the chase was long. They were nearly three blocks away when it ended. After vaulting the countless wooden, cinderblock and chain-link fences that surrounded the back yards of his neighbors, the guy had left everyone in the dust . . . save Steve.

As usual, the SEAL was focused like a hound after a rabbit. The pursuit ended with a flying tackle that sent them crashing through one of the more rickety backyard enclosures and into a pile of construction debris that sat on the other side.

Steve felt something dig into his back as they tumbled to a sprawled halt on the concrete slab of a patio. Quickly getting to his feet, he had the object of the chase handcuffed and was in the process of reciting the Miranda, (yes, he almost always did that despite Danny's opinion to the contrary), when the rest of the team arrived.

All three late comers were sweaty and still breathing hard as the slightly worse-for-wear local was handed over to HPD who'd been alerted to the pursuit and had been on their way only minutes after its start. At least three squad cars, their lights blinking merrily, were waiting at the curb in front of the bungalow where the chase ended. There was a small crowd of neighbors who’d ventured out to see what the commotion was about.

With annoyance, Danny noted that Steve had barely broken a sweat and had already recovered his breath when his prey had been led away in cuffs.

He also noted his partner’s grimace when he bent to pick-up his phone which had slid from one of his many pockets during the tussle.

"Hey you okay?" asked the concerned detective.

"Yeah, I'm good." grunted Steve as he wiped the dirt off the abused device. At this moment he looked anything but. The skin around his eyes was tight and he bit his lips as though in pain.

When the SEAL reached to rub at his lower back, Danny was there in a flash lifting up the back of his partner's shirt despite the protest.

"Hey!" exclaimed Steve as he batted at his partner's hands. "I'm fine! Leemee alone!"

Danny was undeterred and examined what looked like the beginnings of a large and angry bruise from backbone to ribs on the right hand side of his partner’s spine.

"Yeah, I don't think that answer's gonna fly this time, Steven." He tugged the shirt back down and got into his partner’s face. "You, my friend, are destined for a trip to the ER. You've _got_ to be feeling this so don't give me any bullshit. You need some x-rays and maybe a couple Tylenol."

"I'm fine Danny. I just landed on a chunk of concrete or something when we broke through that wooden fence. It'll be fine. I'm sure it's just a bruise."

Danny eyed him disbelievingly before he nodded curtly and walked away muttering, "Fine. You wanna suffer go ahead."

Steve, after signing the form releasing their prisoner into the custody of HPD, trailed after his teammates on their way back to the bungalow where the chase had begun.

What had started as a mild ache was in process of escalating to fiery pain as adrenaline wore off. He'd only gone about half a block when it seemed every muscle in his back seized and it felt as though someone was squeezing the breath from his lungs.

"Danny!" he managed to wheeze as he fell to his knees; arms wrapped around his body.


	3. Exhibits A and B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's plan backfires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final chapter. I hope you enjoyed Steve's sojourn to the land of herbal delights and that you will let me know what you thought of it. In the future I hope to post a few re-worked stories as well as a couple that have been newly written. Thank you for reading.

Someone's plan backfires.

Exhibits A and B

He lay impatiently on the exam table, trying not to move because every time he did, his back would once again cause him to regret doing so. The nasal cannula which had been set back in place several times before being pulled away and thrown across the room, lay several feet away.

Danny hadn't even bothered to replace it that last time; figuring if the asshole had the energy to destroy the damned thing then he didn't really need it.

Jaw clenched hard enough to cord the muscles on the sides of his face Steve ground out, "Why don't they just let me outta here!"

"As if." responded his exasperated partner with a negative shake of his head but more patience than anyone would think possible at this point. "I can see you gritting your teeth. Do you really think you can get up off that gurney and walk out of here? What's more likely is you'll wind up bent into a shape that would allow me to _roll_ you outta here like a friggin' wheel."

"Oh, so now you think this is funny?" fumed the SEAL. Every ounce of humor and goodwill had deserted him long ago. At this point, if it would lessen the muscle spasms that stole his breath and kept him imprisoned in the ER, he'd be willing to nuke a busload of puppies towing a trailer full of kittens. He found _nothing_ about this situation remotely amusing.

"No, Steven, you being in pain isn't funny at all but you thinking that you can walk outta here is hilarious. You damned well know it's not gonna happen so please, please, just chill, babe. I know you're ready to gnaw off a limb to get out of here but you can't leave until we know what they found on the scan and x-rays. What if you broke something?"

"Nothing's broken dammit! I've told you that at least five times! I've had broken bones before and I know what it feels like. This is just muscle related!" barked the man who dare not move so as not to provoke another cramp that threatened to turn him into a pretzel - if not into the configuration his partner had proposed.

"Okay then, what if you have a serious head injury, huh? Despite your skull being harder than the concrete onto which you so gracefully back-flipped, you might have significant trauma. It could've caused brain damage."

Steve clenched his hands into fists and growled, "I'm not brain damaged!"

"Sez you." snorted the blonde.

 _I'm gonna get off this gurney and show Danny some real damage. As soon as I can walk . . . and maybe breathe . . . he's going to be a pile of hair-gelled rubble,_ vowed Steve silently before growling, "For the hundredth time dammit, my head is just fine."

"Thank you for your diagnosis, Dr. Kildare but this declaration of cerebral health is pretty shaky. I you weren't mentally impaired, you'd be willing to wait for an okay from a _real_ doctor; one who actually went to medical school and has a diploma certifying he passed all his courses or was at least smart enough to fake it."

"Certify this!" said Steve as he extended his middle finger toward his friend.

"Very adult behavior, Steven." said Danny with a roll of his eyes; barely managing to refrain from strangling the ever-loving shit out of his partner. The beleaguered blonde calmly and slowly reiterated as though talking to a five-year-old, "The nice doctor has to give you a release before you can go home. You know that."

Steve lay silently glaring up at him with a look that had his friend thinking, _Maybe it's a good thing he can't move right now._

Taking a calming breath, Danny went on, "Even without the test results, I already know what his conclusion is going to be as soon as he gets a look at those faces you've been making."

"What faces?" growled Steve

"You know. The ones that are like a billboard proclaiming you are in so much pain that you can barely move. My prediction is that he's gonna either A – put you in a full body cast and keep you here until doomsday or B – shoot your ass so full of drugs you won't be able to move, **or bitch** , about anything for a week."

"I don't have faces." defended Steve; trying mightily to school his features into something that didn't look so tortured.

This time Danny only snorted dismissively.

Only scant minutes later, the unhappy SEAL resumed his futile campaign by grumbling, "I've been lying here for over an hour! Where the hell _is_ the doctor! Don't I actually have to _see_ one first before they can sign off and I can get the hell out of here?!"

"You saw one when you were wheeled in, though, being unconscious and all, you probably don't remember. He's the one who ordered the x-rays and a head scan."

"Oh" said Steve actually sounding surprised. He didn't remember having either though he knew they were awaiting the results, (whatever year that was going to come about).

"According to the nurse you frightened into submission with your SEAL death glare, both the radiologist and the neurologist have to look at them first and then discuss them with your doctor. Surely you must be familiar with that drill by now. We just have to be patient and wait for their findings."

"I don't care if we're waiting for _findings_ from the Mayo Clinic! I am tired of lying here in this practically see-through gown in this freezing cold room for . . . AGHH! MOTHERFUH . . . !" The profanity ended in a breathless squeak as the muscles along his ribs joined in with those in his back, clamping down until most of the air in his lungs was expelled." Eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and teeth clenched, he rode it out.

With a frown of concern, Danny grabbed his friend's hand to offer what comfort he could. The worried detective didn't even make a smartass comment this time as Steve's grip tightened on his until he could almost feel the bones in his own hand begin to crack.

After a long two minutes, the spasm seemed to ease. As Steve’s muscles relaxed, so did the death grip on his partner's hand and the face that had been flushed during the spasm was now pale.

Danny flashed back to being with Rachel in the delivery room when Grace had been born. Every time a new contraction hit, she would squeeze his hand until he thought she would break it. During labor the delicate English rose had revealed a talent for swearing that could have put Steve or any other sailor to shame. At least Steve didn't threaten to have him vasectomized with a rusty machete.

"Just hang in there babe it shouldn't be too much longer." he said though he didn't know if he believed it himself. _How the hell long does it take to look at friggin' x-rays?_

This time the man on the narrow cot didn't bother to even respond to the hopeful statement. If he could somehow get his hands on a gun, maybe he could just shoot himself.

"Look, once they turn you loose, I'll be more than happy to dump your whiny ass off at home but you can't leave until then." said Danny firmly; his tone hoping to convey there was to be no more discussion of leaving until the doctor gave the green light to do so.

He didn't dare tell the impatient patient that the doctor was thinking of keeping him here for the night, considering Five-0's leader had fallen unconscious then banged the back of his head onto a concrete walkway. Danny was aware that, at this point, if the news was that Steve couldn't yet leave the hospital he’d be more than willing to kill the messenger. As far as the detective was concerned, the doc himself would have to risk life and limb if it came to that.

The minutes ticked by as both men silently stared at the clock on the wall behind the blinking monitors that stood sentinel next to the bed.

****. . . . . . .** **

The minutes ticked on. Both men were silent now but Steve's obvious opinion of his current situation really didn't need words. Danny's theory was that the cause of at least part of the hostile attitude was Steve's disappointment in himself for not being able to shoot or ninja his way out of the confinement necessitated by a traitorous body. Whatever the reason, the situation sucked with the force of an entire Hoover factory.

With the possibility of a head injury, the ER doctor hadn't yet felt it safe to do anything more than give Steve oxygen and establish a precautionary IV of saline. Danny sincerely hoped the results from radiology would indicate it was okay to shoot the SEAL's ornery ass so full of drugs he wouldn't wake until Tuesday.

Steve had once again managed to scare the crap out of his team. When he'd called out and they'd turned to see him drop to his knees then plop over backward they had no idea how serious it was or wasn't. A further worry was that their leader had remained unconscious for the entire ride to the hospital, only minimally awakened during the x-rays and CAT scan, and only fully came-to when he'd been deposited back into the exam room. From then on it had been an amusement park ride of pain and profanities.

Danny, patience worn to the bone, sighed tiredly as Steve tried to wriggle to a more comfortable position on the gurney. The movement caused his back to seize once again and he groaned as his face flushed in reaction to the painful tightening of his muscles.

Distressed that he couldn't offer anything more than words Danny said, "Hang in there, Rambo. They'll give you some version of happy juice as soon as the doc is sure you haven't scrambled your brains any more than they already were." (He couldn't be too nice or Steve may think something is seriously wrong). "As soon as you're cleared for drugs they'll load you up and put you out of your misery."

"They'll probably just give me . . . muscle relaxants Danny. Those just make me . . . fuzzy-headed and . . . they're not really that effective. I just need to get out of here and . . . lie down on my own bed." panted Steve who'd yet to withdraw his hand from his partner's comforting grip.

"I don't think that's gonna happen, babe – the getting out of here part - at least not until they're sure you're not going to tie yourself into a knot. You _do_ know that they think it was lack of oxygen that made you faint. Your muscles had contracted so tightly you couldn't expand your lungs.

"I didn't faint!" exclaimed Steve defensively. "I passed-out maybe . . . but I didn't faint."

"You really need to see someone about your macho complex." snorted the blonde. "You've got guns, tats, and a truck big enough to ship a friggin' herd of cattle to market. I think you may be overcompensating for something."

Unable to take a deep enough breath to tell his partner to go fuck himself, Steve could only wait until this latest spasm eased.

Just as he'd gathered every molecule of oxygen in his body to respond to the dis, they heard someone say, "Knock knock" from the other side of the privacy curtain.

"Commander McGarrett, Detective Williams." greeted the ER resident as he parted the drapery and entered the treatment cubicle. He'd been here the last time Steve had been brought in. He'd also been on duty when Kono had been wheeled in for treatment, then again when Chin had arrived via ambulance and of course when Danny had once again screwed-up his knee during a chase. By this point, he knew the team very well.

"Hey doc", greeted Danny.

Asked/demanded Steve without preamble, "When are you going to . . . let me . . . out of here?"

Dr. Pradesh smiled indulgently. He knew the head of Five-0 would attempt to leave as soon as he could stand but it didn't really look like he would be doing so in the near future. One glance at the man's face then the monitors beside the bed told him that much; (if not the obvious pauses to take a breath in the middle of a sentence).

"How are the spasms?" asked the doctor whose twinkling hazel eyes and bright smile contrasted pleasantly with his nearly walnut colored skin, "Are they easing up yet?"

"Uhh yeah, they're almost gone." lied Steve as the cramp continued to clutch at him. He was doing his best to breathe through it without panting like a dog.

"Um hmm." responded the doctor whose eyes narrowed in evaluation. The sweat beading on his patient's forehead and upper lip was an additional indication of untruth.

"Well, there's good news, Commander. Despite the worrying length of time you were unconscious, the scan indicates there's nothing wrong other than perhaps a mild concussion. Your x-rays were also clear of any fractures which kind of surprised me considering the extent of the bruising along the lumbar and thoracic areas of your spine. Unfortunately, swelling has irritated nerves which are causing your back to spasm along with contraction of intercostal muscles. They tightened enough to prevented you from expanding your lungs and getting enough oxygen - thus the fainting."

Danny smiled triumphantly at his friend. Steve intended to roll his eyes but ended up only squinting when the unrelenting contraction of the muscles in his back and sides made his breath hitch and he couldn't hide it.

"That spasticity of your back and ribs must hurt like hell. Am I right?" asked the doctor - pretty much rhetorically at this point.

When Steve didn't answer immediately because he was trying not to groan, Danny spoke up. "Trust me doc. I've been his keeper for years now and am fluent in McGarrett-speak - or non-speak if you will. Even though he's pre-verbal; just from the faces he's been making I can tell that my stupidly stoic partner is hurting big time."

Once again flushed and sweaty, Steve glowered at Danny as he tried holding as still as possible. If he opened his mouth to speak right now the words would probably come out in only a breathless squawk.

"He keeps asking me about leaving but I know he can't even sit up right now." Danny went on as he regarded the man lying rigidly on the gurney while white knuckling its railing.

"On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?" asked the doctor.

"Five." Lied Steve as Danny rolled his eyes.

"Do you think you can get up and walk, Commander?" asked Pradesh, (pretty much just to see what answer his obviously incapacitated patient would come up with).

"Sure. Just gimme a minute." said Steve trying to sound as confident as possible despite the mutinous muscles that threatened to fold him in half – backwards. “I’m fine, really.”

Pradesh's broad smile once again made an appearance. "Yeah, I can see how fine you are by the reading on the blood pressure monitor you're hooked up to."

"Yeah, right now it's acting as a sort of a lie detector, Steven." said Danny. "You do know it's useless to tell the doc you're fine when your BP spikes because you're in pain, right?"

Still in the grip of this particularly strong spasm, Steve grunted out an answer that sounded suspiciously like, "Bite me".

"Tell you what." said the amused doctor, "I'm going to have the nurse give you five milligrams of diazepam IV and then, if the spasms haven't lessened, five more. When and if you're a bit more relaxed and can actually stand up and take a few steps, I'll let you go home with a couple of prescriptions."

Steve could only nod, the cords in his neck standing out with the strain as he gritted his teeth.

"You will not, of course, be permitted to work until the irritated nerves have had time to calm down and the spasms have abated. If you try to rush this you'll only end up in traction. Am I clear?" said the doctor gruffly. He knew the man's M.O. The driven leader of the Governor’s Special Task Force would try to return to work long before being given the clearance to do so.

"Yes, sir. I'll . . . follow orders." Steve gasped out. Sure, he was still in agony and those puppies and kittens were still in danger but at least there was hope for escape.

Danny's eyebrows rose toward his hairline at the quick capitulation. "What about when that stuff wears off?" he asked. "Steve's already in a bad enough mood and I don't wanna have to lock down the city because Godzilla here is stomping around Honolulu squashing busloads of tourists."

"I seriously doubt there'll be much stomping in the near future." chuckled the doctor. The pair's infamous squabbles had always amused him. The two were now silently glaring daggers at one another.

"To be honest . . ." began the doctor who looked cautiously over his shoulder before leaning forward and lowering his voice conspiratorially, “I think the Commander could get as much or even more relief, ( _and chill the hell out_ ), thought Pradesh, "if he took a few hits of pakalolo."

The blinding grin on Danny's face could have lit a night game at Aloha Stadium.

"I can't smoke dope! I'm a cop!" squeaked Steve.

"To help soothe your qualms about it I'll write you a prescription. Unfortunately it's pretty much useless right now because medical marijuana won't be available in dispensaries until at least this coming January. When it's legal, one could get up to four ounces every fifteen days. For the time being, I'm fairly certain you can find some from other sources."

"Not . . . legally." said Steve, still resistant to the idea.

"If you don't tell, I won't tell." laughed Pradesh. When his patient still appeared unconvinced he said, "Look, I know you don't like muscle relaxants, you've told me so on more than one occasion on your visits here. This is a way to get some relief without having to rely on them."

"Okay, okay." Steve ground out between clenched teeth, "Just give me . . . a hit of . . . whatever you've got for now . . . and let me the hell out of here."

"After the diazepam, _if_ you can get up and we're sure you're okay to walk, I'll sign your release forms." agreed the doctor.

An hour later, a much more relaxed patient was wheeled out of the air-conditioned lobby to the SUV that met him at the front door. With Kono's assistance he slowly stood and took a careful step then climbed gingerly into the passenger seat. He even thanked the orderly who'd wheeled him to the patient pick-up area. He was so happy to be going home that he hadn’t given anyone any shit for being held prisoner for so long or the requirement of a wheelchair to leave. Of course, the ten milligrams of diazepam could have something to do with this new and improved attitude. His back may still be hurting but with a huge dose of what is essentially Valium onboard, he wasn't too concerned about it – or pretty much anything.

"Thanks for the ride Kono." said her boss as she buckled her own seat belt after helping to fasten her passenger in. He'd not been able to line up the ends of his seat belt well enough to click it into place. Steve grinned at her; eyes at half-mast.

"No worries Boss." Kono smiled back at him, "Danny said he couldn't stick around to drive you home because he had something to take care of. It's almost quitting time anyway so I can just drop you off on my way home. He should be at your place by the time we get there."

Steve, in his current relaxed state didn't even respond to the statement that his partner might be there waiting when they arrived at Casa McGarrett. Right now, all he wanted to do is climb into his own bed and enjoy the world going away.

When they arrived, the Camaro was parked in his driveway. Without comment, Steve took a deep breath, (which he could now do), and opened the SUV's passenger door. Kono had come around to stand next to him as he carefully maneuvered out of the seat. She guided his hand to her shoulder so that he could use her slender frame for support as the two of them walked slowly to the front door.

Upon entering, the first thing the Hawaiian woman spotted was a white pharmacy bag atop the coffee table. Beside it was another bag from Steve's favorite Chinese take-out place and a box from Danny's favorite pizza parlor. Also arrayed on the table was a large assortment of snacks, a six-pack of soda, and several bottles of water. Most surprising was that in the middle of it all, atop a box of chocolate-macadamia nut cookies, sat a clear baggie containing what had to be at least twenty or thirty marijuana cigarettes, (or blunts as they’re sometimes called).

"Wow boss." laughed Kono, "Looks like it's party time!"

Danny stood next to the coffee table, hands on hips and looking pleased with himself. Smiling at his boss and the woman assisting him, he said, "Toast said to tell our fearless leader, I quote, 'Welcome to the brotherhood of the bud . . . brah'."

Steve stared dazedly at the display as both team members took an arm to help ease him onto the sofa.

"Chin's gonna be here any minute with the ice cream." said Danny as he carefully helped raise Steve legs into place while Kono just as carefully placed a cushion behind his back and another beneath the backs of his knees.

Once the SEAL had settled almost comfortably onto the leather cushions Steve grumbled with a bit of a slur, "I can't believe I need the help of a guy who's been baked for probably the last ten years of his life."

"I thought it was very generous of our mellow friend." smiled Danny

"Yeah, boss." chimed in Kono, "This stuff is pretty expensive these days . . . I've heard."

"Toast said this should definitely get you where you need to go. In any case, I bet you're gonna enjoy the ride." chuckled Danny.

**. . . . . . .**

A week later, Steve was on his way to the gun cabinet to put away the unused munitions from the bust they'd taken part in that morning. His back had been twinge-free for the last three days but he still bent rather carefully when stowing the extra clips in one of the lower drawers.

It had been a productive day. They'd caught their suspect who was to spend the night in the hospital before being booked. Upon return to H.Q. he'd filled out all the relevant forms and filed his report. Then, he'd broken down his SIG and cleaned it before returning all equipment and unused ammo to their rightful places. It had been tremendously satisfying to roundup those who'd been involved in trade of the conflict/blood diamonds that had been shipped here from Sierra Leone via contacts in Liberia.

Despite everyone's predictions that he'd do something to necessitate another trip to the ER, he'd controlled himself when one of their suspects bolted down an alleyway in a bid for escape. Normally, he'd have given chase and caught the idiot with a flying tackle.

Danny had always given him shit about being like a greyhound or a cat – the animals having an instinct that automatically kicks in when something ran. His annoying partner called it 'that friggin' rabbit chasing gene'. He'd always denied it but deep down he suspected it may be true. It was hard not to pursue someone that rabbited after being ordered to halt. The chases usually ended with the apprehension of a perp not quite as fleet of foot.

This time he'd only yelled a quick warning along the lines of 'Stop or I'll shoot!' then aimed carefully and put a round into the guy's ass. There's more padding there to help keep a projectile from hitting bone or major blood vessels and it would definitely put a hitch in escape plans. It kind of seemed like cheating but, hey, it got the job done.

Satisfied that all was orderly he closed the drawer and was in process of locking the cabinet when he heard what suspiciously sounded like conspiratorial giggles coming from the breakroom.

Moving silently down the hallway he peered unseen into the small room. His team was bent over a cell phone that had been placed on the lunch table.

"You guys find something funny?" he asked as he strode into the room. All three team members froze in place.

"Uhh, no nothing really." tried Kono, "Just a few pictures Danny took of some um stuff." (Her plan was to be out of the room before he actually found out what they were looking at).

"Oh, before I forget . . ." tried Chin, going for distraction, "the Governor wants us to get some additional information on the company that owns that warehouse we hit last week. He says he wants us to check if it's in any way connected with that outfit in L.A. that we were looking into."

"Already done." said Steve as he advanced further into the room. "I just emailed the report to his office."

Both cousins half rose to take their leave before their leader said, "Don’t go anywhere yet." as he gestured for them to remain where they are nearly frozen in flight.

Five-0’s leader took another step forward to loom over the one who was trying to stave off a panic attack. Steve asked with silken menace, "Care to share what you all seem to find so hilarious, Daniel?"

Before the blonde could pick it up and thumb off the image, Steve's hand shot out to grab the phone lying on the table. Turning it toward himself he studied its display.

Danny actually paled.

 _I am so dead!_ thought the detective as his mouth suddenly felt dry as a week old malasada. Strangely, it was the exact same thought that flashed through both Chin's and Kono's minds at the same moment.

After what seemed like the longest minute in history as Steve scrolled through the gallery of images, their leader finally shrugged and said, "At least you got my good side."

"Didn't know you had one." said the blonde with a nearly hysterical giggle.

Steve handed the cell back to his partner and turned toward the other two team members. "Hey, you guys got a minute?"

"Yeah, um sure, Boss." answered Kono as Chin nodded beside her. The relief that had been displayed on the tan faces disappeared to be replaced with that of apprehension.

As Danny trailed behind, Steve led them toward his office. While they walked ‘the green mile’ he called over his shoulder, "You guys remember that Christmas party last year at the Governor's mansion?"

"Of course." replied Chin, "How could we not? That eggnog was lethal. It took me two days to get rid of the hangover."

"Yeah, sure." said Kono, recalling a dismaying incident, "Hurling eggnog is a memorable experience."

"I've got some interesting pictures you guys might enjoy. I'd saved them to my laptop. I'd be happy to email the file to you. Maybe you can use some of them for your holiday cards this Christmas or share them with friends and relatives."

The three frantically tried to conjure up memories of what had been an epically alcohol-fueled celebration that had commenced at the Governor's mansion, progressed to the bar at the Hilton, and then had wound-down at a seedy dive in an iffy part of town.

Two weeks of major stress and very little sleep coupled with another near miss with the grim reaper when Steve had sustained a knife wound requiring several stitches made it almost mandatory that they party hearty. Due to the medication prescribed to ease the pain of his injury Steve couldn't drink or drive but nevertheless had dutifully shepherded his little flock from venue to venue. At the end of a long evening he'd poured everyone into a cab to haul their inebriated asses to his house.

He'd let his teammates sleep it off wherever they'd landed. The heavily tipped cabby had assisted him in depositing his colleagues indoors rather than the front lawn where Kono had insisted she was going to sleep. After getting them all inside Steve had decided he'd rather not risk popping any of his stitches by trying to move them to proper accommodations.

Morning light had found each where they'd landed the night before: Danny on his beloved couch, Kono on the entryway floor, and Chin on the area rug in the middle of the living room. Each had been covered with a blanket and beside them sat a plastic bucket, a roll of paper towels, a bottle of water, and a packet of Alka Seltzer. Steve wasn't there but a note was taped to the fridge saying he had to go take care of something and to help themselves to whatever was in the kitchen if they were hungry. Of course, no one was.

By the time they'd returned to work after taking some deserved time off, no one thought to bring up whatever might have occurred in the wee hours of that momentous celebration. It was a sort of 'don't ask, don't tell' unspoken agreement.

Arriving in Steve's office the team took their usual seats as their leader sat behind his desk and reached into his drawer. Pulling out a brown envelope, he removed its contents and passed the printed sheets to Chin who sat closest. The Hawaiian swallowed audibly before passing on the small stack of papers to Kono. After getting a look at the top sheet she clapped her hand over her eyes and moaned, "Oh, man."

Finishing her perusal of the material she handed it to Danny.

"We'll leave you here to enjoy those on your own, Daniel. Meet us at Side Street when you're done." With that, Steve picked up his badge, gun and wallet and led the Wonder Twins out of his office.

Staring open-mouthed at the photos taken of that poorly remembered night the detective was aghast. "Fuck . . . me." he breathed into the now empty room.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be posting re-edited and hopefully improved versions of some of my works that had previously appeared on another site. There will be newly written stories as well but I'm a dreadfully slow writer so it may be awhile. Your opinions would be greatly appreciated. They don't even have to be good ones. Constructive criticism is also welcome.


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